Sermons

April 27, 2014

Sermon on Doubting Thomas: John 20:19-31

The door was locked.

 

Why was the door locked? The disciples had seen Jesus, it wasn’t just Thomas there? Where they still scared? Were they afraid that the man who came back from the dead did would not could not be there help?

 

Why were the doors locked?

 

It seems to me they still lived in fear. They understood Jesus had overtaken death, that his way of living, of believing, of sharing the kingdom of heaven here on Earth was the key to this overcoming of death, yet they were still scared of death. They were still frightened that Jesus could not protect them from the hostile political environment. They were still scared.

 

We experience that fear. We are afraid that Jesus is not big enough to help us in the pain that we are in. That Jesus who overcame it all does not want to be our help…..

……can’t help us,

…… nothing can help us.

 

I imagine this is how Thomas felt. He was heart broken. Devastated beyond words. He was not with the twelve when Jesus came the first time. He was alone. He had removed himself from his community, from the family Jesus had introduced him to so he could ….

…..could what? I think grieve. There are times when we are confronted with feelings so large they threaten to overwhelm us. They threaten to hold us hostage and we feel so vulnerable we don’t know what to do.

 

We know that Thomas earlier in the book of John had been willing to die with Jesus. When Jesus went back to Lazarus, Thomas knew that due to the politics it would certainly mean death and he told Jesus he was willing to go and die with him. Yet he ran when it came time for Jesus to die. He must have felt so alone in his soul. Have you ever felt that? So completely alone in your soul.

 

The feeling can drain. It can make rest impossible. One’s brain replays the loneliest time trying to find a way out, a reason, an excuse, to make sense of others actions or our own. It is like a dreaded replay scene from a football game, but it is a tragedy instead of a past time, and there are no commentators to tell you what went wrong and how it could have been done better, different…there is no one to save you.

 

For many of us when we are feeling this raw to the world we either gather with others or we retire from the world. We try to isolate ourselves it is too frightening to allow anyone else to see us torn in two.

 

I think this is why Thomas is not there. Then he hears the good news – Jesus Lives. Thomas does not believe. He can not. This is not a possibility that is even close to a reality he knows. He saw Lazarus, but Jesus had called him out of the tomb. Who could possibly call Jesus out of the tomb? Perhaps the others had imagined him. He could be a ghost. What about a twin, after all Thomas was a twin, perhaps Jesus had a twin and they did not know it?

 

Why would Thomas be different then we are? Would you believe because a friend told you? If they said everything would be okay, that you were still loved, that this horrible time you are in would pass and you would know true life and love and wholeness again. Would you just say yes and believe?

Not me. I will be completely honest with you. I am a lot like Thomas. I would not believe. I would doubt, I would think they were teasing me, or that they were blaming me for not being with them. Yet another way for me to feel isolated.

 

People speak of Thomas like he was terrible for needing Jesus.

 

I think he was real. He refused to say he believed something he did not. He refused to pretend. He had to question, to struggle, to own what it was they wanted him to believe.

 

In my classes in seminary I am definitely Thomas. I ask those uncomfortable questions, the doubting questions. I ask ….

 

but I am not alone when I ask.

 

I ask in a community. I pray in a community. I wrestle with those doubts with others who are willing to do it with me, whom I trust, who will walk with me. And then when I understand – I own it.

 

Like Thomas who did not actually stick his hands in Jesus’ wounds, but yelled “My Lord and My God!”

Once I begin to understand I own it. Once Thomas saw, he realized that Jesus truly overcame death and was God.

 

I wonder if the others were willing to voice there doubts if maybe they would have been able to own their faith in such a way they would not need to lock the door when they gathered.

 

Perhaps this very act of being in community, voicing our struggles in life, in faith, in our souls we are inviting Jesus into the moment, to help us in our faith, to give us enough to make that leap of believing without seeing.

 

I believe Thomas’ mistake was not his disbelief but isolating himself from the others. When we are in our most pain we need to depend on one another, we need a community to remind us we are not alone on this journey and that we need one another. We need the community to show us their wounds, and healings, to support us in our unbelief and have faith when ours is weak.

 

Jesus will come to us just as he did to Thomas. We may not see him stand before us, but it will be in a hug from a friend in Christ, encouraging words from a stranger that speak directly to your struggle. It will be a feeling of comfort in your soul that is much deeper and bigger than the isolation that was there before. We can not heal ourselves…..that is the point of the cross. Christ is our healer and redeemer.

 

We can not do this on our own. We need God, we need community, we need help.

 

What are your struggles? Who can you step out with who is struggling? What is your story? What is the good news of your life?

 

 

 

 

I forgot to record until we were reflecting on the fifth reading.  I will add the other readings during the week coming, but here is the end of our reflective Tenebrae service.

 

Psalm 118:1-4, 19-29
Matthew 21:1-11

Each year as we get ready for Easter we begin with hearing very similar stories. We parade around the sanctuary with palms waiving, shouts of Hallelujah and Hosanna ring through the space. The children and many adults get excited about waving and shouting in church in joyful acts of worship. We are getting ready with our whole bodies to remember.

You see, I have learned over the last few years especially it is not enough to remember. To mark a date on a calendar is not enough. We acknowledge it but we do not know it in the same way.

When we tell the story as if it were happening than we remember. We can almost feel the anticipation of Jesus walking down the road. We can hear the shouts. You see when we physically have to do something in the remembering though it brings us there. We remember with our minds, our hearts and our bodies, and our souls. There is something about telling a story in such a way that makes it our story. It makes us part of the story. When we celebrate the palms, the shouts for joy at the idea of release from our current state of affairs which is what the Jewish people were hoping for. They needed a release from their oppression, from their pain, from their sadness.

When we act out these stories we become part of them. We share in a collective memory stronger and bigger than ourselves.

You see Christ came, died and was resurrected for all of us. For the community of believers, for all who choose to accept them into their lives. For any and all who want to have a relationship with Jesus. Christ came. We don’t have to deserve it. We can be part of the crowd that is shouting for Joy at seeing the greatest prophet and the Messiah come down the lane….the same who turn on him and shout crucify him by Friday. Yet Jesus still comes to save all of us – even in our shouts of crucify.

As we move into Holy week. I urge you to get ready. Get ready with your whole heart, mind, soul, and body. Come to the Good Friday service. Hear the story once more. The sad story of our own fear, our own anxiety and pride overshadowing God’s beloved son. But a story we need to remember in order to truly celebrate Christ’s over coming of death in his resurrection Sunday. Remembering that not only did Christ overcome death, but he sets us free from our own fear, anxiety, and pride. Jesus can set us free to fully experience the kingdom of God and bring that into our communities today. This is the story we are beginning today. Walk with me this week as we get ready.

Relationships are hard. It takes a lot of work, effort and trust. We see all sorts of difficult relationships in the gospel this morning. A man whose parents fear what he has done so create distance in their relationship. We see the man who is blind in relationship with his community. Another relationship between a man and the one who has healed him. Another between a man and the authorities in his community and finally a man with his community at large. The people in his community don’t seem to know him at all. They only see his blindness, only identify him by the begging that he must do in order to survive. They don’t know him. How many of us feel that way about our community – they only know us by what we do, but don’t really know us? How many of us would not recognize the cashier at the grocery store if she or he were to show up in church? How difficult must it be to have your life changed so much and then to have no one believe you?

Let us look at this story of relationship.

The disciples see the man and immediately believe it was his fault or his parents that he was begging. They did not acknowledge him, but were talking about him. I wonder how many times we have seen people on the street and assumed something about them – about how they got there, or how come they are homeless, or why they are where they are.

Jesus immediately tells them in v. 3 that “neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” He then calls his disciples to do the work of the “one who sent him while it is day, for night is coming” (v. 4). Jesus is calling his disciples to task – to love as God has commanded us to love one anther, not to assume or punish, ignore or degrade, but to love. We too should hear that call – since Pentecost we have the Spirit in the world and are called to do God’s work.

In John we hear Jesus spit on the ground made mud and put it on the man. He does not address the man until he sends him to Siloam in this story. In the Luke version (Luke 18:35-43), we see that Jesus asks him “what do you want me to do for you?” and replies “Lord I want to see.” In Luke he sees immediately. In John he has to trust a stranger. He has to follow some directions, he has to say yes to Christ.

This is not just the blind man’s story, but our story. We meet Jesus everyday and we don’t recognize him due to our own blindness, the things we assume, the things we think we know, and often we don’t have time for Jesus. We don’t have time for the encounter and miss the moment to have our eyes opened.

Wesley in his sermon “The Way To The Kingdom” (1746) calls us to first repent to have a relationship with Christ: “And first repent, that is, know yourselves. This is the first repentance, previous to faith, even conviction or self knowledge.” (Outler, Sermons, 128). He explains that we have to be able to see ourselves in all of our faults, assumptions, biases, hatreds, and boldnesses. When we ask God to help us see this, then we can begin to repent – that is turn towards God’s awesome grace. He refers to this process of “Spiritual respiration – God is continually breathing, as it were, upon (our) soul, and his soul is breathing unto God. Grace is descending into (our) heart(s), and prayer and praise ascending to heaven.” (Wesley, 1760, The New Birth).

The blind man is healed after he does as Jesus tells him. He can see. He begins a whole new life. He is beginning a new life in Christ. Yet his community still refuses to have more than a superficial relationship with him. They ask him if he is the blind beggar, he says yes, and yet they do not listen, do not believe. They have to ask his parents. His own parents who make space between his decisions and their identity. Ask him yourself they tell the questioners, he is of age.

You see it would mean possibly being kicked out of the community if they found him guilty of something and if they were part of it they would loose their entire social relationship – what would the neighbors say. They had to choose – to be safe and part of the community, or to admit to the miracle they themselves witnessed through their son.

We see miracles everyday. The blooming of crocuses, the light of Christ in a neighbor or friend, time spent in renewal in prayer. Yet how often do we admit our miracles?

The leaders in the community bring the blind man, now transformed man to them for testimony. He admits that Jesus healed him, and is a prophet.

In v. 30-34 The former blind man tells them: “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. 32 Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” 34 They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.”1 Being a poor and unlearned person he gives his testimony and they see it as teaching. How many times have we turned away from what we could learn from another person because they were not who we were? They were not what we were?

Finally Jesus hears once more of these happenings and finds the man. He explains to the man and to the Pharisees that those who choose to be blind are the ones that sin.

So here is the question – Are you willing to take a look into all the dark spots in your life? Are you willing to admit to your own biases, prejudices and allow Christ into heal you? Are you willing to do the hard work of repenting – of doing the thing we humans hate – admitting where we fall short of our ideals? Are you willing to participate in that “Spiritual respiration” with Christ. Allowing Christ to heal you, fill your own shortcomings with his endless presence and love? If you are – how are you going to start right now?

Today we hear a lot about death, despair, barrenness, dryness. Psalm 130 speaks it most clearly – “From the depths of my despair I call to you, Lord. Hear my cry, O Lord; listen to my call for help!”

Hear my cry!

Sermon for last Sunday:

Listen to my call for help!

Who has not known that feeling? Who is not familiar with that feeling of loss, sadness, despair, pain?

Who has not lost someone they loved and wish God would give them back to you like Lazarus?

Who has not felt a period along their walk with God or even before they came to know God that felt as dry and barren as a bone graveyard?

This week has been a difficult one for me as I consider these particular texts. 15 years ago on Tuesday, I lost my dad, suddenly and without warning. For some reason, this year was worse than others in that dull ache of missing that happens when someone you love is now sitting with Jesus. For some reason this year the dull ache is sharp and the hole left behind ragged. On Saturday we received a call that one of my dad’s dear friends passed away in suddenly, without warning, in the night when he had a simple illness – just like my dad. The ragged breaths catch suddenly and without warning again.

Hear my cry Lord.

Listen to my call for help.

The thing is, despite walking on the edge of the sharp pain that is despair, I did not despair.

I felt like Martha this time – going out to seek Jesus, to ask for help in my pain. There have been times that I was Mary though – angry and in such grief or despair about my situation that I could not come out to Jesus – Jesus had to come to me.

The thing is, on this walk that we call being a Christian it is okay. We see examples of it in our readings today. It is okay to run to Jesus in our pain as Martha does and seek hope, comfort, reliability. It is okay to be like Mary so deep in pain that we can’t quite see God working around us, in us or near us until he shows up in a person and reminds you of your faith. As a friend told me right after my dad died – God has big shoulders. God can take your anger, and your pain even when accompanied by screaming.

Thank you God for that.

Thank you for making new things out of the empty spots in our life. For giving us hope when we feel there is none. For teaching us that when we are in despair, when we are walking in the valley of dry bones, our spiritual life seems hopeless and unfruitful, when our pain is so big it threatens to take over our being, when sadness runs through us like a fierce roller coaster – we can give it to you, Lord. You can make all things new. You can take the hardship and use it for your glory just as you did when you raised Lazarus. You can take our empty moments and make room for a new creation. You can take our dry, disconnected dead bones and create a life that is thriving and blow your sweet breath of life through them.

You are our alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. You are the maker of miracles. Always drawing us to you. Thank you Lord. Amen.

You see in the story of Ezekiel, Lazarus and our Psalm – it is okay to feel lost. It is okay to express that to God. But you have to express that to God. Just as it says in Psalm 130
“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;
My soul waits for the Lord, more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.”

Waiting on the Lord. Knowing that although other human beings may have caused our pain, or a sudden tragic accident caused our pain, or just our own sense of lost-ness causes our pain, that we are to go to the Lord.

We are to listen for the Lord to show up – just as Ezekiel did. We are to trust that Jesus is always pulling us to Jesus’ self just as he did Lazarus. We are to remember “For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem.”

That the Lord is greater than all our pain and there is always hope in the Lord even when you feel lost in dry bones. The Lord can do miracles beyond our understanding. Sometimes there is nothing else you can do but wait and hold onto the word of the Lord in hope.

I ask you today, to consider what are those things you are holding onto that cause you pain? What are the dry parts of your life? Where do you need God to reach in and make something new? Where do you need God to give you a new life? As long as we are willing to give God the space to work, to offer the pain up as a prayer and let God work on it, to release the loneliness, the isolation, the hard parts of our lives to God on a moment by moment basis – God can make us new just as he did the bones in Ezekiel. God can do anything. Be prepared for a miracle